


Family (30 Days of Prompts)

by JoifulDreaming



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:47:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27450700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoifulDreaming/pseuds/JoifulDreaming
Summary: Sometimes it takes peace and quiet for the real damage to catch up to you.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49





	Family (30 Days of Prompts)

**Author's Note:**

> For my NaNoWrimo project: 30 days of short story prompts.

Moonlight greeted Crowley when his eyes opened. Unusual, that. It had taken him time to adjust to a quieter life. Not just the silence of the countryside, although that had been strange after so long in the city. It reminded him of older times. Simpler, maybe, but not always better... no matter how the short memories of humans chose to see them. No, it took time to let go of the anxiety that, at any time, one one of his lot could show up and drag him back. Back to that life in the dank and stink. A life of assignments about which he felt ambivalent. Criticism of his work, at best. The stoic silence of non-comprehension, usually. Fear of destruction at worst.

He stretched and rolled onto his back. But, he was- relaxing. He could feel it in the lack of tension in his shoulders. How he slept in a bed instead of on the ceiling. How his sleeps were now naps- hours instead of days or years or decades. There was nothing to avoid with unconsciousness now. He still scanned the area while he was out gardening, but he was doing it half the time he was in the beginning. Progress, he was making progress.

It wasn't all self-work, though. A lot of it had to do with the angel tucked into the covers beside him. At first, he had insisted on not sleeping. And, maybe, that had been a blessing in the beginning. Crowley could truly rest knowing the angel was watching over him. But, the weariness had caught up with Aziraphale eventually. Crowley would catch him napping in the warm sunlight of the sitting room, book dropped out of sleep-numbed fingers. Sometimes, if he woke in the night, he would catch Aziraphale having drifted during his Watch. They hadn't talked about it. When Aziraphale started sleeping through the night with him, he didn't mention it. Just curled closer to him, joyful for the evidence of trust: I can lay myself beside you at my most vulnerable and not fear.

He shifted carefully onto his side, bent on catching the angel in one of his rare, unguarded moments. Yes, they were becoming more frequent, but they were still something of a gift for Crowley, after so many years of not sharing this much space and time with him.

The sight that greeted him wasn't one of his best friend at peace, but strained. His face was dawn and lined with stress and fear. And, now that he was paying attention, Crowley could feel him trembling, ever so slightly, beside him. His fists were clenched over the covers. He was talking to someone in his sleep- quick clipped responses that, obviously, weren't moving in the conversation in the direction he hoped because the shadows deepened in his face. Crowley couldn't hear make out what he was muttering. He slid a hand across Aziraphale's middle and gave him a little shake.

The angel's response was swift and shocking in the silence of their room, shrinking back away from the touch and sitting up suddenly, back pressed against the headboard. His eyes darted around the room, taking it all in and wading through confusion before understanding. But, his body wouldn't listen, holding itself tight, his breaths coming in quick pants.

“Hey, hey Angel!” Crowley was sitting up now, too, the sheets falling away from his torso, “Angel, you're okay. You're alright. Hey, look at me, eh? Breathe with me. You're going to hyperventilate.”

Aziraphale eyed him wildly, still shrunk back against the headboard, but met his eyes. He nodded, breathing with Crowley. Crowley deepened his breaths as the seconds ticked by and watched as Aziraphale followed his lead. His shoulders didn't relax at all, but his breathing steadied. Eventually he sagged back, looking away to collect himself. Crowley gave him space, scooting up to sit next to him, but being careful not to touch.

“They found me. Right before the end.”

“Who did?”

“The other angels: Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon. They found me right before the trumpets sounded.”

“They try to drag you back?”

“Well...” Aziraphale was still staring off into space, his face pinched.

“Did they hurt you?”

“They roughed me up a little,” Aziraphale's hand snaked around his own middle, even though the pain of the punch was long gone something about it still hurt, “nothing too bad.”

“How was that supposed to bring you back into the fold?”

“They weren't,” Aziraphale swallowed and when he glanced back at Crowley his eyes were glittering damply, “That is, they didn't seem terribly interested in having me back.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes at him in the darkness, but reached for his accumulated store of calm. A drop a day, it had been filled since settling here. But, he didn't want to test it's depths. Not when it came to Aziraphale's safety and happiness. There wasn't enough bucket.

“I thought I could reason with them. I thought I could convince them... That there was another way, another side. That Good and Bad were human choices, but that we also had our own choices we could make.”

Crowley nodded, letting him speak.

“That maybe we could mend fences, so to speak.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley drug his voice back from dripping with the pity he felt, but only just. That's not what he needed right now.

“I know. It was stupid.” Aziraphale was examining the bedsheets now, twisting the ones over his belly in his fist.

“It wasn't stupid. It was hope. Angels are supposed to be hopeful.”

“They're also supposed to love!” The statement rang out in the room, practically yelled in frustration. Crowley contained his startled gasp but knew his eyes were comically wide. Aziraphale was a lot of things, but loud was not one of them. And he was shaking again, “I thought... I thought. Well, it doesn't matter does it?”

“Your thoughts always matter to me, Aziraphale,” and if Crowley's voice broke over the word 'always', it didn't need to be mentioned.

“I think I wanted them to say they were sorry.”

“For ending the world?” Yeah, he sounded incredulous. 

“For how they treated me,” it was said so softly, the words seemed to have no integrity, especially after his outburst.

“I don't understand, Angel,” Crowley reached out, making eye contact, and when he received a nod of consent, placed his hand over the Angel's knee over the blankets and squeezed, “but I want to.”

“See, that's it precisely! Crowley, you always listen to me. Even when it's about silly books or the new sushi restaurant or the terrible play we both just saw. You,” his throat worked, “you make me feel valued, of import.”

“Because you are,” Crowley cocked his head to the side, “you've always been important to me.”

“But I never was to them, Crowley.”

A beat of silence passed, each digesting that statement. Crowley couldn't argue it. He had been in Heaven in Aziraphale's corporation. If how they treated him then was how they had always treated him. It took everything to remember that he was touching the Angel so he didn't clench his fist.

“I think I tried so hard to reach them... Because I wanted them to see me that way. I wanted them to see what I could bring to the situation, what I had always had. What I've grown to have. With, with no small amount of help from you, dear,” he waved Crowley's protestations away, “I know you haven't made me who I am, darling, but you've helped me see who I am and that is priceless.”

Crowley smiled at him and scooted a little closer, their thighs brushing under the covers.

“I think I hoped they would see and they would apologize,” he winced, “please don't laugh.”

“It's not funny, Aziraphale, I understand now.”

“I wanted them to realize how they treated me was wrong. That I had a part of all of this. That I always had. I wanted them to say they were sorry, to me, personally.”

“You would have forgiven them.” Crowley thought, to himself, that that already made Aziraphale a much better angel than all of them combined, but he didn't voice that thought.

“Well, I don't know. Probably. I don't think I could have forgotten what they did. How they made me feel.”

“You wanted it for yourself.”

Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably.

“It's okay to want things like that, for yourself. Hell, I still talk to God sometimes. I still ask my questions. I still want answers, Aziraphale. I mean, at this point it almost doesn't matter. We have our side: our reward and our peace. But, it still burns that she cast me out. I still want to understand it. Doesn't mean I want to go back. Doesn't mean I want to be an angel again, white wings and halos and sharp, drab suits.”

“I'm sorry, Crowley, for both of us. They never did deserve us, did they?”

“Nah, and they never really had us.”

“True,” Aziraphale tilted his head to rest on Crowley's shoulder and Crowley ghosted a kiss over the top of his head. Family. They were family, the two of them.

“This world, though. It's full of possibilities and weirdness. We fit in here.” But, maybe they weren't completely alone.

Aziraphale hummed softly, drifting again. Crowley slid back down into the covers, pulling the angel with him.

“I fit here,” Aziraphale murmured into his neck as Crowley held him close, relaxing into sleep. Crowley would watch him, this time, for any more stressful dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr: [sushiandstarlight](https://sushiandstarlight.tumblr.com/)


End file.
